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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/tragedyinnewyorkOOhart 



~f% 3 5-15 



J\ tragedy in a Xm ¥orR flat 



a Dramatic iSpfso&e in vlvco Scenes, 



/ 

By SADAKICHI HARTMANN. 



^ 1) M 



, 



Written in a New York Flat, '95- '98, 
mi nothing a week. 



Author's Edition, 1896. 



o 5 



COPYRIGHTED BY 

C. SADAKICH! HARTMANN. 
1896. 



For trie right of performance apply to the author., 
1567 Broadway, Room 16, New York. 



\ 



Dedicated 

to the trinity of my artistic faith, 

berlioz, steinlen, whitman. 



PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



George Hatching (age 28), of tall and vigorous 
build; his face full of freckles; the purple of dissi- 
pation under his eyes. His thin brown hair is 
combed down on both sides, which gives him an 
insolent appearance. Carelessly but well dressed. 

Charles Fisher (age 40), of heavy build, very 
awkward, a full round face with a reddish beard, 
bad teeth, his voice of guttural harshness. Despite 
these deficiencies he has something agreeable and 
sympathetic about him; one feels that he has soul 
depth beneath his rough surface. 

Kathleen, Fisher's wife (age 25), of slim figure, 
breasts and hips well developed. Her features 
symmetrical, only the mouth with its full protruding 
lips disturbs; round its corners wrinkles are already 
perceptible. She wears a red wrapper with a few 
buttons torn off. 



■^^m/i SCENE I. i/in** 



Kitchen of a flat. Walls stained green. The range 
is lit. In the rear corner to the right a window open- 
ing on a gray wall. From time to time two small, 
timid spots of sunshine appear on the floor. To 
the left two doors, one to the stairway, the second 
to the other rooms. 



Kathleen {preparing luncheon): I wonder whether 
we'll rent our room. I did not fancy any of the 
men who looked at it — glad that none of them took 
it. {Knocks.) Probably somebody else, or a beg- 
gar. {Opens door to corridor) 

George {outside): Is Mr. Fisher at home ? 

Kathleen {staring at him, stammering'): My husband 
— is at work in the carpenter shop, right across the 
way. Can I — perhaps — {screaming) — for heaven's 
sake — you, George ! — what do you want here ? 

George {entering, reproachful): You don't seem to 
be very pleased to see me back again, Kathleen, — 
well, I should have known it. 

Silence. Both search for words. 

George {toying nervously with his hat): I am only a 
few days in town again — looked for you in the old 
haunts — there they told me — that you married a 
month ago. 

Kathleen : If you know it, why do you not leave 
me alone ? 

George : I did not believe that you could forget 
me so soon; I wanted {grinning) to convince my- 
self. 

Kathleen {indignant) : Don't waste any words. 
Who left me a year ago without saying good-bye ? 
Did you ever write to me ? Not once. Surely you 
can not blame me for — 

George {scornful) : For consoling yourself and 
taking another one; of course not, my dear. But 
that I went away to work, to save some money, 
and then to come back and marry you, you never 
thought of that, did you ? 

Silence. 



Kathleen {rapidly murmuring to herself ): Who would 
have thought of that when Charles — he wooed so 
seriously, blushing all over — asked if I wanted to 
go as his wife through life. I did not refuse; a 
little home is better than uncertainties. George, I 
thought, might act like others. But, strange, at the 
wedding, at the minister's house, when I had to 
say the " Yes," I thought of George — but then the 
dinner, the wine, the congratulations and Charles so 
kind — I felt happy; yet is it love, when I cook for 
him, talk with him, even at night, even at night ? 

George {subdued): Tell me only one thing, Kate, 
do you really love him — as much as you did me? 
For if you do — I Avon't bother you any more; I 
have nothing more to do in this world. 

Kathleen {aside, in a sudden outburst) : Ah, Georgie! 
— No — no — matter how it stands, Georgie, we two 
can have nothing more to do with each other. I re- 
spect my husband, and that's the principal thing 
in married life, the minister said so ; and before 
God and all others I am his wife. 

George {seizing her hand) : But you do not love 
him, you do not love him, because you still love me. 
The minister overlooked that. You could sell your 
body, not your soul. Deny it, if you can. 

Kathleen {imploring) : George, you will make us 
all unhappy — be reasonable and go. 

George\{passionate): Deny that you still love me — 
deny it and I leave at once, at once. 

Kathleen {bursts into tears and sinks down upon a 
chair) . 

George: Have we two not been husband and wife 
before the minister had anything to do with the 
case? or don't you remember when we — {coughs). 

Kathleen {stares at the floor, her bosom heaves). 

George {looks at her licentiously) : Katie, the past 
gives me the first right on you, and I'll never give 
it up, because I love you as much as ever. 

Kathleen {whispering): I have never forgotten you 
— but now it is too late — it can not be, it would be 
wrong. 

George {tries to kiss her j Kathleen strains her head- 
backwards andliis head falls on her bosom). 

Kathleen {jumps up with a scream, struggling to free 
herself). 



George [heavily breathing, tries to force her lips to his. ) 

Kathleen [groaning); Leave me. If he came — I 
would die of shame — be reasonable, Georgie, go, 
go! {tries to seize something to defend herself). 

George (Jetting her go) : It's true — we are not safe 
in here — but we'll talk of it again, for I want you, 
and if I had to kill him — [picks up his hat and turns 
to exit). 

Kathleen: George, have pity with me. Will you 
spoil everything? you can't change it now. 

George [grinning, makes a gesture of contempt, with 
hypnotic emphasis) : If you have still a spark of feel- 
ing left for me, } r ou know what you have to do for 
me, later on. [Exits.) 

Kathleen [takes a deep breath, arranges her wrapper 
and brushes her hair back with her right hand) : — Oh, 
I am so frightened — it came too sudden. [Holds 
herself on a chair.) Why did he not stay away! 
Why does he step now between me and Charles ! 
I wish he had died ! [Puts the luncheon on the 
table.) What shall I do ? How, how avert — Oh, 
mother of God, help me, help me! [Leaning against 
the table a breeze is wafted through the room; she closes 
her eyes with lassitude.) No, I can't think of 
anything. — Tell everything to Charles, that would 
be best, he would protect me — but then he had 
to know all, would lose his faith in me, de- 
spise me. [At the windotv.) Tiie Jewess is beating 
her children again. Mrs. Thompson has already 
her washing on the lines; how white it is ! [The 
whistles of factories at noon are heard.) Something 
must be done. I must be strong {with a painful 
smile), resist his temptation — for he will come 
again; he will come again. 

Charles [enters, kisses her, puts two oranges on the 
table) ; Got them on the corner for you. [Takes off 
his overcoat, washes his hands, and sits down at the tabled) 

Kathleen [looks at him with bad conscience) : You 
don't seem to be in good humor to-day ; you are so 
quiet. 

Charles [beginning to eat): Not at all; not at all. 
Nothing is the matter with me, as long as you love 
me. (Stretches his hands across the table?) Do you 
know, I have had good luck. As I stepped in just 
now, I met a young fellow and rented our room to 



him. He seems to be a decent sort of a chap; he 
paid two weeks in advance, he said he liked it so 
well. A good soup ! {Smacks his lips.) You know 
how to do it. Yes ; some folks make more than 
we carpenters do. 

Kathleen: What is his name? 

Charles : He has put it down on a card for me. 
There it is. George H-a-t-c-h-i-n-g-s, Hatchings. 

Kathleen [Almost fainting, aside): Is it possible ! 
He dares to go as far as that. The past will re- 
venge itself. The villain ; he knows only too well 
what he is doing — oh if I could only escape — 

Charles {looking up, anxiously) : Why, what is the 
matter, Kate ? 

Kathleen: Oh, nothing. It's gone. Bending over 
the stove, you know, the blood went into my head. 

Charles : Yes, it is getting warm already. You 
must be careful, Kate. 

Kathleen: Yes, somebody was here shortly be- 
fore you came in; if he's to be our lodger, I must 
say, he didn't please me particularly. Yet just as 
you think — you know these things better. 

Charles: There is nothing wrong about him, I 
assure you. I saw it at once; wh\, he even paid 
two weeks' rent in advance [laughs, satisfied, as 
he shows the money). The room is fixed, isn't it ? 
He wants to move in at once. 

Kathleen [repeats meclianlcally with a forced smile): 
There is nothing wrong about him. 

Charles [lights his pipe) : Well, I have to be off 
again. Awfully busy to-day. Have to finish a 
job by three. Good bye, Kate. 

Kathleen [aside) : How kind he is. [Embraces 
him with a tinge of tenderness. ) 

Charles [glides with his hands caressingly over her 
breast and hips) : Katie, you only love me — don't 
you — only me? [Kisses her and exit.) 

Kathleen : I am glad that he is gone, the good 
old man. He trusts me. But what shall I do with 
George. He may be here at any moment. I 
must speak to him — first get calm — so — and then 
greet him friendly but firm, explain to him why it 
can not be. Yes, that's what I am going to do. He 
will be reasonable; at least I pray to God that he 
will be. 



— 9 — 

George {enters) : Here I am back again. You 
expected me ? 

Kathleen {giving him her hand): Georgie, let 
us — 

George ; Oh, you have become more reasonable; 
I thought you would. {His voice and action reveal 
that hypnotic magnetism which certain men possess when 
bent on seduction?) 

Kathleen ; No — 

George: Let us sit down. {Sits down). I have 
much to tell you, 

Kathleen: No — I wanted — I beg of you — do not 
come here — do not lead me into temptation by 
your presence. 

George {fondles her reluctant hand): Oh, come, we 
two are used to it, aren't we? 

Kathleen : Oh, if only somebody would come ! 

George: Kate, do you still remember the first 
time I called for you to go to the Park with me ? 
You had your brown dress on, and I presented you 
with some flowers; how nice they smelt. We 
walked hand in hand. And do you remember how 
we laid down in the grass; we could see the blue 
sky through the treetops. 

Kathleen {gasps for breath to speak). 

George : And all the beautiful words we said to 
each other. And then when it grew dark we 
sought for a lonesome bench; it grew so dark that I 
could draw you on my lap {draws her on his lap), 
and then — you leaned your head against my 
shoulder — and — {he embraces and kisses her, and 
kisses her more and more greedily as the curtain drops). 



SCENE II. 

The Same Scenery. Ten months later. Winter. 
Evening. 
Kathleen {kneeling over a big basket in which her two 
weeks' old child is lying) : Ah, my poor little darling, 
I wish we both were dead. I wonder how every- 
thing went well until now. Why does he not leave, 
the brute, as he is tired of me. He will stay here 
as long as he gets free board and can spend his 



— 10 — 

money in drink. Oh, I hate all men! — You, little 
man, only two weeks old and already obliged to 
take medicine. How he looks at me. Just as if 
he accused me of all the guilt and sin through 
which he was born. 

Charles {enters softly, takes off his overcoat, and comes 
on tiptoes to the basket) : How is the little fellow ? 
I have thought of 'him all day. 

Kathleen (weary) : Rest is the principal thing — 
says the doctor — much rest — otherwise he won't 
live. 

Charles .- Ah ! — He isn't in, is he ? He always 
makes so much noise. He is after all a disagree- 
able fellow — no conscience. We must get rid of 
him; the sooner the better. The idea of telling me 
last Saturday when he was drunk, that nobody 
could know for certain whether he was the father 
of his own children — I know. If the child dies, I'll 
lose my wits. How God can do — ah, it is just as 
if he had to do penance for having come into this 
world. 

Kathleen (nodding, aside) : The sin of the fathers 
shall descend on their children. It is well if he 
sleeps — that strengthens him. 

Somebody is heard going through the corri- 
dor with great noise. 

Charles (angry) : The beast — how he goes on 
when he is drunk, just as if he were alone in the 
world — and we had no sick baby. I'll tell him. 

Kathleen: Don't; you know how rough he is. 

(Curses, and a chair tumbling down are heard). 

Charles (opening door to flat rooms) : Can't you 
behave like a decent person. It is "very mean 
of you, to say the least, knowing how sick our child 
is. 

George (enters j hat pressed into his forehead, one of 
his boots half off, stares at Charles, then pulls off his 
boot and hurls it back into his room) : What do I 
care for that bastard ? — that is my room in there 

— and there I can do what I d please; do you 

understand me, you, you 

Charles : And I tell you once for all that I won't 
stand such noise in my flat, and you have no right 
to call my child a bastard, you drunken 



— 11 — 

George [makes a feiv steps forwards, but staggers 
against the wall) : Don't brag too much — about 
that child — otherwise I could say something — that 
wouldn't be (grinning) quite agreeable to you. 

Kathleen (aside to George): Georgie ! 

Charles (with a sudden suspicion): What do you 
mean to say? Go on; tell what you know. 

Kathleen (aside): It has come. It had to come. 

Charles (seizes the drunkard by his shirt collar): 
Do I perhaps not know if I am the father of my 
child ? you 

George (enraged): No; you dont know it — for I 
am just as much his father — 

Kathleen : It is a lie ! 

George: — as you — I had your Kate long before 
you ever dreamt of her. 

Charles (staggering, then raising a chair to strike): 
That's an infamous lie — an infamous lie — T "1 knock 
your brains out for it. 

Kathleen (throws herself into his arms). 

George (laughs hoarsely, draws his hand over his 
mouth, and continues in gurgling tones): Ask her herself 
— if you don't believe me— we two have been — 
quite intimate with each other — quite intimate — 
and I was the first one — and therefore have more 
right — more right (falls to the floor). 

Charles ( gasping for breath, looking wildly at Kath- 
leen^) 

Kathleen (sobbing desperately): I couldn't help it. 
Spirits of the past! Oh, Charles, don't look so ter- 
rible; for God's sake! 

Charles (his eyes protrude out of their sockets, a con- 
vulsive tremor shakes his body; he throws himself upon 
the basket, seizes the child and hurls it at Kathleens feet): 
Take it back. I don't want to own it. It is not 
of my own flesh and blood. You deceived me with 
my own flesh and blood. 

Kathleen (bends over the child) : Charles, you have 
killed him ! 

Charles (stares at the child, recognizes what crime 
he has committed; groaning and pressing both hands 
to his temples, he rushes out of the room). 

George (is heard snoring loudly as the curtain 
drops). 



PREVIOUS WORKS OF THE AUTHOR. 



**ftSPk'C"aH 



Essays ('89-91) in il Tlie Theatre" New York, published 
by Deshler Welch. 

"Christ," a Dramatic Poem in three acts, published in 
Boston, '93. Out of print Copies valued at $5.00. 

" The Art Critic" Nov., '93, Jan'y and March, '94. A few 
bound copies of the three numbers for sale at $3.00 

u Conversations with Walt. Whitman," published by E. P. 
Coby & Co., New York, '95. Price, 50 Cents. For 
sale at Brentano's. 









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